No 1 Son wants to buy a car!
To be honest No 1 Son wants more than a car, he wants his independence and adulthood. We have spent the last 20 years cosseting him in cotton wool, and shielding him from the harsh realities of the real world. Now he wants to take his own route to maturity. So how long do we need to keep battling to protect our precious offspring, when they are so keen to join the imagined greener grass?
When he was little he would sit at the window watching the bigger boys and girls having fun outside in the road, we lived at the end of a cul-de-sac. He yearned to go out and play with them, he begged me to open the door and let him escape, he would wander round through our garden to the back gate in the hope someone had forgotten to slip the out of reach bolt across. I stuck to my resolution that whilst I did not have the time to sit and watch him he remained firmly where he was …..Safe.
He did not miss out, as when I did have the time, and I found plenty of time to avoid the housework, shopping and other hum drum chores so we spent hours at the nearby park, or out walking the country lanes where he made friends with local dogs who would come and bark, and run away as we came past, or the young horse kept in a field who would prance over and then run off kicking and jumping and showing off as youngsters do. I also have a series of now redundant video (in light of DVDs) of each Sunday morning as the children grew up, making friends and playing with the older children outside the house, where I could be there keeping an eye on them.
I lost the battle when Middle Son came along with his disregard for barriers, constraints and safety; he would climb the back gate. He learnt very quickly to stand on a pile of wobbling uneven books on the window ledge and open the window before slipping out. He taught his older brother how to quietly take a chair to the front door and open the catch, move the chair just enough to escape through the gap. He then taught him to make their way to the park by themselves. The sound of silence in the house even now alerts me to mischief.
So I can hear you say, let the boy have the car.
It is not him having a car I object to, but he is only 19 and he wants to buy a Masda MX5. I want him to buy a Sherman tank so that if anyone hits him I have more faith in him being safe. What protection does a soft top MX5 have from other drivers? I rely on my years of experience to get me out of scrapes; he is still building his experience base and confidence in his ability to drive safely, he has not realised yet it is the other driver I am concerned about.
I know, now he is older he watches me drive a Mercedes SLK convertible, in which I love being out and about on the few summer days we have; top down, sun beating and radio blaring. When I met Sexy Sporty Dad in our twenties he was driving a spitfire. It came with a hard top for the winter, twice a year we would lift that delicately off or on, to replace it with the summer soft top. I see No 1 Son’s friends come and go in their MX5s, so ‘keeping up with the Jones’ plays a large part of where his desire has come from. So why should we deny him this.
I know I will not stop him, I also know that the car is only the first independent step he will take away from us. We will be looking at houses with him before long and then there might be girlfriends more welcome in his home than us. I hope he will not leave it once a week to contact us and we see more of him than that. When the children were younger we spent so much time altogether, now he wants to find his own feet and experience his own learning path.
He has just asked us to go and look at a car; bottle green with tan interior and several miles away, although the one he really wants is 138 miles away, black and very sleek. I can see a few miles being added to my clock before finding the right one. I need to gem up on the technical details for Masda so I don’t look like a dizzy blond knowing nothing. I admit to a frisson of excitement at the thought of test driving different cars with the wind in my hair and the growing tension waiting for collection day even if it is not mine and the opportunity to drive it may not come very often. I also admire his taste in cars, which must come from his parents.
I also know that just nipping at the heels is Middle Son, who has yet to learn to drive but will be seeking speed, status and stimulus from his first car. He will see his older brother racing round the local lanes, and will wish to emulate his freedom. I am not sure I am quite ready to let Middle Son have his liberty to grow up just yet, not until he has kerbed his disregard for safety.
Well it is an odd world where I, who wish to write find time very difficult to claim. I have my three or four jobs however you wish to define them. I find I am working at very odd hours to fit them all in but it is my writing that suffers, probably as that is the one that I do for love rather than pay. I need to work on changing that.
It is ironic however that although I have writing of my own to do; I am now working with others to produce articles for industry magazines and editing and proofreading a blog for others. Is this the way forward? Take a look at a Lad from Featherstone.
I still have a story to finish to send off to a magazine, before they change the guidelines again and it is no longer suitable. I have a half finished article to finish and find a market for; the planned market, I have decided will not be looking for my style of writing so I need to find somewhere else. Memories still needs that final edit and rewrite, I am part way through. Each night as I collapse with exhaustion, a shiver of guilt runs through me knowing that I should be editing, and I promise that tomorrow will be different…..
Take a look at my cooking blog – not technical just practical easy meals for a working mother with discerning tastes to cater for. Teatime Treats with Tiggy.